


Second Generation

by LucifersBitch



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: AU, Anxiety, But Gale does to protect Prim, Depression, District 7 centric, Katniss doesn’t volunteer, Kinda glosses over the game, Mentions of Suicide, More later - Freeform, Panic Attacks, Suicidal Thoughts, Victory Tour, second generation victor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-08-16 03:16:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20177266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucifersBitch/pseuds/LucifersBitch
Summary: Young Silverius Hamlin of District 7, age 12, son of the 47th Game Victor Forrester Hamlin, set several records when he won his game. The least of which being the youngest Victor to ever win.





	1. Chapter 1

Silverius doesn’t look like he’d amount to much physically at the moment. He was skinny and lanky, all knees and elbows, having just hit puberty. But don’t let that fool you, he’s just as strong as anyone else having worked with heavy wood most of his young life. He had a pretty, freckled face, the bane of his existence because people continually comment on how feminine his features are, and kind of shaggy, straight light red hair. He’s due for a haircut but never got around to it before the reaping, so he did his best with a pair of kitchen scissors in the bathroom mirror to clean up around his face. It ended up being slightly uneven but it was no better than his mother could do for him so he accepted his fate of having perpetually slightly uneven hair. He was dressed in a faded and worn green button down that brought out his eyes, off-white pants, and the best shoes he could find in the house that happened to be tan but showed signs of being darker once. The shoes only kind of fit, being a whole size too big for him it was the best he could do. He would rather have his shoes be too big than too small and make him walk funny. They didn’t have the money with so many mouths to feed to buy brand new shoes, or clothes for that matter, for any of the kids when they would no longer fit the same year because they were all growing so fast, so all he had were hand-me-downs from well meaning neighbors.

Once dressed and brushed and cleaned to the best of his ability he stopped in the main room of their small house where his sick brother, Peregrine or Pip for short, usually slept on the old couch. The boy was 6 years old and sleeping now. Sil pet through his hair, Pip was his only sibling who had the same red hair as he did-his father’s red hair, and whispered his goodbye knowing that Pip wouldn’t be able to make it to the town square to see him off. He had been talking with Pip in secret on and off while the boy was awake about his plans and today was the first day he could act on it. He wouldn’t get another chance until next year and by then it might be too late.

He was soon out the door and on his way, walking down to the town square with his mother and some of his siblings, bringing them all would be too much for his mom all by herself. His stepdad couldn't be there because was assigned to work that day. He made sure to hug them each tight before he got his identification verified with a small prick to his finger and a drop of blood on a spreadsheet next to his name. Before he was aware he moved he was standing in amongst the group of other 12 year old boys. He made sure to position himself near the aisle so he could more easily make himself known when the time comes. His palms are sweaty and his shirt collar feels too tight around his neck as he looks around curiously and waits with everyone else for the ceremony to start.

Before long all the victors are present and kids accounted for. He ends up standing with a group that were lottery picked to represent their town a few miles away. When the escort steps up to the mic everyone goes silent. The escort makes their small speech with overly bright words and the video plays. The crowd stays uncomfortably silent the whole time waiting for the names to be called and this all to be over.

The girl that gets called is a name he doesn’t recognize, must be a lottery kid. She looks to be around 16 maybe 17 and is built like a house. His name doesn’t get called, instead a boy, a man really by the looks of him so this must have been his last year, silently walks up to the stage sporting a full beard, white shirt and kaki pants. When the escort asks the obligatory question about volunteers Silverius hesitates a moment, the escort about to move on before he raises his hand. Everything stops. Everyone stops. And then an uncomfortable murmur starts up. District 7 doesn’t get volunteers, especially any so young. It takes him another moment to get his voice to cooperate with him-for the most part- and get the words out as loud as he can manage without screaming wordlessly.

“I volunteer!... I volunteer as tribute!”

His voice cracks half way through the word volunteer, both times. A camera somewhere zooms in on him and throws his face up on the screen. Immediately he can hear his mother’s crying and his siblings’ confused and worried questions over the dull lull of the crowd. No going back now. He doesn’t have to push his way out to the aisle, the other boys part for him in stunned silence as if he were diseased. As soon as he’s in easy reach Peacekeepers flank him and walk him up to the stage. By now most of District 7 has seen and recognized him as his father’s oldest kid, the son of the 54th Hunger Games Victor-Forrester Hamlin, as well as realized his motivation to volunteer. His brother has been sick for over a year. Everyone knew about it but no one was willing to help beyond throwing around hand-me-down clothes. Unbeknown to Sil, the President had told the other victors to shun his family because his fathers death was seen as un-honorable because it was at his own hands. The rest of the district simply followed suit.

Silverius stared accusingly at every victor that meets his eyes. His father was one of them. They could have helped, should have offered help in honor of one of their own. But his family got nothing but scraps after his father passed. Once on the stage he attempted to shake hands with the boy that got reaped but the other didn’t budge, just stood there in shocked silence looking suspiciously close to tears. The Peacekeepers eventually dragged him away and he stood with the escort who was asking him to introduce himself. He did with much less bravado than when he volunteered. It was like the world slowed down for a while. He did it. He had actually volunteered and it worked. He was in. Now he just had to stay alive. "M-My name is Sil-Silverius Hamlin." And now the whole country knew, or would know as soon as the recap was aired with all the commentary by whats-his-face, the announcer guy that does the interviews.

The goodbyes were harder than he expected. After being taken to the train station and given a room and ten minutes to get it over with. His mother slapped him as soon as they were alone for being so stupid and immediately hugged him, apologizing profusely. He hugged each of his siblings that came to the reaping and was given a cedar wood beaded bracelet as his token. Cedar was his favorite aromatic wood. Not long after he was being escorted by Peacekeepers to the train.


	2. Chapter 2

Ronan walked around the living area of the house while also opening up the paper bag of caramels he had bought from the store the day before. It was very early in the morning, and he didn't sleep well the day before. His insomnia grew worse as the days neared for the annual Reaping. He hated the Reaping, the Games, and the Capitol, not to mention what they put him through. The endless nights of unrest, the nightmares, the struggles with coping. Ronan couldn't stand the thought of the Capitol punishing these young batch of tributes. This was complete and udder madness, and though Ronan was quiet with his beliefs, he would let them rot underneath until he couldn't take it anymore. And today was one of those days. He paced around in the living area, his feet stomping around the room. He guessed his stomping was loud enough, because his nephew, Oakland, came down the stairs still half-asleep in his blue pajamas.

"Uncle Ro?" He asked in a hushed voice, rubbing his eye. Oakland looked exactly like his mother, with light blonde hair and fair features. Unlike Ronan, who had slightly tanned skin and brown hair that was starting to gray.

Ronan jumped at the sound and then sighed. "Oakland, what're-what're you doing up?" He asked, sitting the bag of candies on a coffee table.

"I heard you walking around down here and thought that something," Oakland yawned, "might be wrong." Everything is pretty much shit, Ronan thought but didn't say that. But it was the truth, the truth that someday Ronan hoped he would never experience. There was a chance that his nieces and nephews would have to become tributes, but Ronan would pray that that wouldn't become a reality.

Ronan picked the child up -Oakland was only seven and barely sixty pounds- and replied as he took him back to his room. "No, nothing's wrong. I just had a, uh, bad dream, that's all." Ronan knew that with the child as young as he was would never understand, but at the same time, knew he would learn in the future.

They topped the stairs and Oakland asked again, "What kind of bad dream?" The boy was starting to fall back asleep before he even got back into his room.

Ronan hesitated and answered, "A big ole scary monster was chasing after me, but you know what? You swooped in and saved the day." Ronan gave a faint smile to the child as they neared his room. He laid Oakland back down to sleep, and gently closed the door.

As he sucked on the hard candies, Ronan decided to continue to get ready for the day. Though he hated everything about the Games, he was still expected to show up. His mother and sisters stirred awake as he got dressed. Ronan had told his stylist to essentially screw himself, as he didn't care what he looked like. His stylist had to put up with him regularly and why he stayed, Ronan would never know. What he saw in his closet was a yellow, almost golden blazer, with black trim and matching black pants, turtleneck shirt, and shoes. For once, Ronan thought, he didn't look like a total ass.

His family prepared for the day as well; his sisters and mother dressed in yellow dresses as well, with the dress that Ronan's mother was wearing being more modest; Ronan's nieces -aged 9 and 11 respectively- dressed in black shirts and yellow skirts, and Oakland dressed in the opposite with a yellow shirt and black pants. Ronan continued to think of the nature of the Games on the way to the town center. It was ridiculous for the whole set up, how only one child won the many riches that the Capitol could provide. Instead, it should have been divided up among the citizens, but it was given to a soul winner. Ronan tried his best to help those in need but secretly. A family would get a few loaves of bread here, and another would get a few hundred dollars. What hurt was when the Hamlin family was forced to move out after their father (who was at one point a victor) had died, and Ronan couldn't help. The other victors were told to ignore the needs of their own, but Ronan saw to it that he would watch from afar and see what would happen. Up until now, nothing much had happened, but that may change today.

Ronan's family found their place in the crowd as he took his stance on stage. He saw the young faces of the children in the crowd, wondering on who it would that would be picked. He saw a young man, almost built like a tank, stand among the older teens or a more fox-faced man who was about 15. As the presentation started and continued, with the Escort talking about picking the names, Ronan continued to wonder. He wanted to make sure that these tributes made it through the games, and made it safely through to the end of the line. He may hate the Capitol but the tributes, that was another story.

One young woman was picked, and she seemed like she was well built. As a young man was picked and was about to walk up the steps, a young boy volunteered. His hair was red, and his face seemed to have many freckles splattered on his face. Ronan held his breath as he remembered that little boy from years back and from watching. That was the eldest Hamlin boy, and he volunteered. Ronan sighed as he neared the microphone and squeaked Silverius Hamlin. Ronan knew right then that even if he couldn't save the girl, he needed to save the Hamlin boy out of spite.


	3. Chapter 3

" Hello and welcome to the 74th annual Hunger Games Recap here on the Caesar Flikerman Show. I am your host, Caesar Flikerman, and with me today is Head Gamemaker Seneca Crane, here to get the first look at this years tributes with us. Sencea, tell me, what are you hoping to see out of this batch for this year's game?"

"Well Caesar, more than anything I'm looking for diversity. I'd like to see what kind of strengths these kids have and how well they stand up under pressure."

"Right, well with that in mind lets start with District 1, Shall we?"

-The screen behind the pair lights up with the District 1 town square and the escort announcing its time to pick names. Before the Escort can even read out the full name of Amber Harmen another female volunteers and saunters up to the stage introducing herself as Sapphire Dray. The girl is all smiles and waves. The escort makes their way to the bowl of boys names. This time the whole name gets read out with out interruption before Marvel Burke volunteers and just as enthusiastically makes his way up the stairs as well and introduces himself oozing a macho 'i'm the best of the best' attitude.-

The pair take a moment to reflect and comment on District 1's tributes with Caesar doing most on the talking and Seneca barely getting a word in edgewise, a 'yes I agree' or half a critique before getting cut off by Caesar was all he could manage. The more Seneca got interrupted the more tense his posture became and the more aggravated he looked. District 2 goes much the same way, introducing Lex Cronin and Cato Stark and touching on their strength and beauty.

By District 3 it becomes clear that Caesar is purposely trying to get a rise out of Seneca but the other man refuses to budge. "Axel, now there is a tribute I can work with." "Yes, he does seem rather proud of his Reaping doesn't he? Most tributes from 3 get rather emotional like little Tamera Steele."

General highlights of the reel up until District 7 include a female volunteer in 4 followed by a 13 year old boy with no one to volunteer for him. A set of older tributes from 5 and from 6 a 15 and 16 year old.

When they reach 7 and the female name is called, Willow Carver, Caesar wonders if carving willow is the profession her parents wanted for her, making a joke out of it, even though she was built like a lumberjack. Then there was an actual moment of stunned silence from Caesar when Silverius Hamlin volunteered. Seneca, however couldn't help but smile unable to believe his luck.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, it seems we have a second generation tribute in District 7!"

The pair (Caesar) goes on to remind the audience of Forrester Hamlin's games, how he won by killing the district 2 female in single combat-they even played the clip of the event-and his untimely death in a freak woodsman accident. As well as how eager Silverius must be about the games, how he must have grown up to idolize the event to have volunteered so young.

Tangent over, District 8 went over without much fan fair in comparison, but they (Caesar) were soon frenzied again when Farro's name was called, thinking they were going to have a battle of Titians on their hands only to be disappointed when Thorn volunteered. To his credit Seneca pointed out some strong attributes on the boy but with Caesar acting down right defeated with disappointment Thorn's favor in the capitol wasn't looking good.

Seneca made a fuss over Buck Pitwood of District 10 and how he thought the boy would be a strong player. Then they wrapped the lineup with 11 and 12 having a 12 year old girl each and a male volunteer in 12.

"You saw it here first folks, the official line up of the 74th annual Hunger Games. May the odds be ever in their favor. Caesar Flickerman and Seneca Crane signing off with a Happy Hunger Games to you all


End file.
